Musical X Readers
by Lillyflower01
Summary: A collection of short stories about Dear Evan Hansen characters x you, the reader. Prompts: Open (Also accepting prompts for: Newsies, Be More Chill, School of Rock, and Bonnie and Clyde)
1. Rules for Prompts

**PLEASE READ!**

Hi! I'm going to write imagines for the musicals Dear Evan Hansen, Newsies, Be More Chill, School of Rock, and Bonnie and Clyde. If you want to send in a request, please either comment or send me a message. Just because you send me a request, doesn't mean I will write it. I will most likely write it, but there's not a definite yes to every request I receive.

I would also appreciate it if, when I was sent a request, it includes the following:

Character:

Gender of reader:

Plot/dialogue:

For example:

Character: Zoe Murphy

Gender of reader: Gender neutral

(One or both of the following):

Plot: Zoe and the reader have science together and are paired up for a project and fall in love.

Dialogue: "You have all the stars and more in your eyes."

If you only send me a character, it doesn't give me enough of an idea to actually write something.

Following is the list of character I'll write for, please only request a character if it says requests are open. If you plan on requesting Michael Mell, please be aware I'll only write Michael X Male!Reader, seeing as he is canonly gay in the musical.

The "Other" category, is for characters that are not from a Broadway show, but were played by Broadway actors.

For the kids in School of Rock, I'll only write platonic stories about them (ex. You're their older/younger sibling, you're their friend, you're their parent etc.) just because they are so young.

If you want a story about an actor, please check out this story on my Wattpad (WriterGirl150).

 _Characters:_

Dear Evan Hansen:

Evan Hansen [Open]

Jared Kleinman [Open]

Zoe Murphy [Open]

Connor Murphy [Open]

Alana Beck [Open]

Newsies:

Jack Kelly [Open]

Davey Jacobs [Open]

Katherine Plummer [Open]

Race [Open]

Crutchie [Open]

Romeo [Closed]

Be More Chill:

Jeremy Heere [Open]

Michael Mell [Open]

Christine Canigula [Open]

Jake Dillinger [Closed]

Rich Goranski [Closed]

Chloe Valentine [Closed]

Jenna Rolan [Closed]

Brooke Lhost [Closed]

Bonnie and Clyde:

Clyde Barrow [Open]

Bonnie Parker [Open]

School of Rock:

Dewey Finn [Open]

Rosalie Mullins [Open]

Summer [Open]

Billy [Open]

Tomika [Open]

Zack [Open]

Fred [Open]

Other:

Winn Schott (Supergirl) [Open]

Benji Applebaum (Pitch Perfect) [Open]

Jamie Wellerstein (The Last Five Years) [Open]

Thank you!


	2. Connor M, W eventual Evan H X Reader

Summary: [Reader] deals with their boyfriend, Connor's, death.

TW: Suicide, mentions of self harm, mild manipulation, bad coping mechanisms

* * *

Funerals were not nearly as extravagant as you thought. The room was empty aside from the chairs and coffin, yet it still managed to feel...what's the word? Hollow. Yes, that's it. It felt hollow. Not just the physical room, the people inside it felt hollow as well. At least that's all you could think when you look at them. Dozens of people were crowded inside the somehow still empty feeling room, all of their eyes wet from tears. But their trembling lips only enraged you. Where were they a month ago? Where were they when you had to talk Connor through his particularly bad depressive episodes? Where were they when you helped clean Connor's bleeding wrists? Where were they when he needed them?

Standing around here sobbing wasn't doing him any good.

They were all fake. All of them. Even the Murphy family. Looking at them caused your insides to twist together and bile to rise in your throat. If anyone could have helped, it was them. And therefore, if anyone was to blame, it was them. If they had just payed attention to what was happening. If they had just listened when Connor had cried out. If they had just _cared._

But they didn't care, not as far as you could see. The only one who looked genuinely upset was Cynthia, who was silently sobbing into a handkerchief. Zoe was crying, though there was some form of anger in her eyes that made your stomach squirm. Larry didn't even give the curtesy of crying, choosing instead to stare stoically into the distance.

Granted, you yourself weren't crying either. But honestly you had cried so often these past few weeks, you would be surprised if you could ever cry again.

The funeral was open casket. You had to say you were shocked by how many people stared into the casket, their wet eyes seemingly trying to memorize every piece of Connor's pale face. It made you sick. Why would they want to see him like that? There was a picture of him alive right next to the coffin. Why didn't they look at that?

Although, to be fair, you didn't want to look at that either. The photo was from a few years ago (no one could find a recent photo that was any good), and looking at the enormous grin on his face made your heart ache. You had only seen that smile twice. Once when you first said you loved him, and twice when you had admitted you wanted to marry him someday. Now that would never happen.

But as hard as it was to look at that photo, it was still better than looking in the casket. You had considered it, but were quick to decide against it. You didn't want that image burned into your head. You wanted your last memories of him to be of him alive, not of him lying dead in some casket they were about to put six feet under.

Zoe didn't look in the casket either. But you had once caught her staring at one of the people looking in the coffin. She looked nearly as disgusted as you.

At least that was one thing you could agree on.

But that anger in her eyes was still making you uneasy. You knew as a fact from all those times that Connor had ranted about her, that her and Connor hadn't had the best relationship. But surely that didn't mean she was glad he was gone? She didn't look happy. She just looked angry. Absolutely furious, actually. The longer you looked at her, the angrier she looked. And maybe you would never know for sure why she was so angry, but one thing you did know was that look made you angry.

What right did she have to be angry? You could be angry. You could be sad. You had tried to help Connor. You had cared about him. No one else here had done anything.

If the funeral had been filled exclusively with people who had actually cared about Connor, you would be the only person in the room.

It filled you with fury just to think about it.

You shoved your way through the wall of students, perhaps with a bit more strength than necessary. You received more than a few glares and shouts of protest, but you just ignored them. You had better, more important things to do than argue with them about whether or not they deserved to be shoved (they did). Right now those more important things revolved around a certain blue-clad boy down the hall.

Just thinking about him filled you with rage. The type of rage that you hadn't felt since Connor's funeral.

" _You_ were Connor's best friend‽"

Evan jumped, his eyes going wide as he looked at you. His eyes darted nervously between you and his shoes, and though you couldn't get a good look at them, you would have sworn there was a bit of fear in those eyes.

"I-Um-Y-Yeah," Evan nodded hurriedly. "We were-We were good friends. Mostly-Um-We mostly wrote emails? Didn't-We didn't talk in person very-very much?"

"Why didn't I ever hear about you?" you asked, and you had to look away in order to hide the tears pricking at your eyes. You couldn't believe Connor would hide something like this from you. "Why did I have to learn about it from a damn school assembly‽"

"He didn't-He didn't want people to know? That we were friends?" Evan said.

"But-But I was his partner!" you blurted, maybe a little too loud.

"He didn't-He didn't want his family to know-to know either," Evan continued, now fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Maybe he was-um-embarrassed?"

"If he didn't want people to know you were friends when he was alive, why did you disrespect his wishes now‽" you snapped. You ignored the hurt look that flashed in Evan's eyes. You didn't care if it was too harsh. It was the truth, and that was all that mattered.

"I didn't want him to be forgotten," whispered Evan, the words making your breath catch in your throat. "I don't think you want that either."

The words made you stop, your anger dissipating so quickly it left you dizzy. You could feel a lump form in your throat, forcing you into silence. You wouldn't cry here, you wouldn't cry now.

Maybe there would have been two people at that funeral.

"Why didn't I know until now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Zoe said-She said she tried to contact you," Evan said. "You didn't-didn't pick up."

Your heart sunk as your mind flashed back to the phone call you had ignored. Guilt suddenly washed over you. You had hated Zoe, believing her to be a soulless bitch that played an unfairly large part in Connor's demise. But none of that seemed likely now.

She had wanted to reach out to you, to help you. And if anyone could have helped you, it was her. But you had so been blinded by your own anger and hatred that all you did was push her away.

You couldn't help but feel guilty.

"Maybe I should talk to her," you whispered.

For the first time, Evan smiled. It was a small, nervous smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. "I think she would like that."

"I wanna see the emails!"

Evan stared at you in shock. No matter how many times you talked to him, he still managed to look terrified every time he looked at you.

"Zoe said there were emails," you said, quieter now.

"Oh-Um-Yeah," Evan agreed. "Of course you can. I just-Um-I'll get them to you-to you later."

The grin that split across your face was so wide it physically hurt. You bounced on your feet a little, tightening the grip on your backpack straps to stop yourself from leaping over and hugging him.

"Thank you!"

A smile flickered over Evan's lips. The fear had finally drained from his eyes, and you had to admit you felt a certain amount of relief knowing that he had finally gotten used to your presence. Of course you knew that the next time you spoke to him his nervousness would reappear, but at least for now he was alright.

"What?" you asked, fighting to keep yourself from snapping at him. You didn't want to set him off again.

"You're smiling," murmured Evan. "I-Um-Sorry. That's probably weird...You have a nice smile."

"Thank you," you said.

A quiet chuckle escaped Evan's lips as he nervously shuffled his feet.

"I-Um-You're welcome," he spluttered. "I-Ah-I was wondering-wondering-Er-Nev-Nevermind."

You cocked your head to the side. "What?"

"No, it's-Uh-it's nothing."

"Alright," you muttered. "So you'll bring the emails tomorrow?"

Evan nodded, his eyes darting away from you again. "Promise."

"Evan, these are amazing. Did Connor really say all of this?"

Evan nodded so fast you were worried his head would roll off his shoulders.

"He calls me beautiful in just about every one of these," you breathed.

"Well you are-He thought-He thought you were. Not that you aren't! I-I just-I just meant-"

"Thank you, Evan," you whispered. "This is amazing. This is..." You could feel your throat start to close up as you scanned the emails, though your blurry eyes were making it progressively harder to read. "This feels like I've gotten a piece of him back."

"You can keep them!" offered Evan. "The emails, I mean."

Your head snapped up. "Really‽"

"Yeah," nodded Evan. "I have-I have other copies."

"Thank you," you beamed. "These are...They're...They're..."

"Amazing?"

A bark of laughter escaped your lips. "They are!"

"You have a beautiful laugh," blurted Evan. "I mean, that's what-that's what Connor would always-always say. I didn't-didn't mean-"

"Evan," you laughed. "It's alright. Thank you...Did he really say that?"

"Yeah," murmured Evan. "All the time."

You sighed happily as you hugged the papers to your chest.

"He seems so happy in these emails. It almost doesn't even sound like him," you muttered. "I can't remember the last time he said something like this to me...I can't remember /if/ he ever said something like this to me." Your smile flickered as dread started to fill your stomach. "Did he...Did he ever say anything about...about being...in love with me?"

"All the time!" insisted Evan. "He-He loved you...so much."

"Really?" you furiously blinked away tears, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

"I don't think I've ever met someone more in love," muttered Evan.

"I just don't understand how I never saw this side of him," you whispered. "I mean, I'm so glad he was happy with you, but...why didn't he act this way with me?"

Evan looked positively heartbroken. A part of you thought he might cry himself.

"He loved you," insisted Evan, his voice barely above a whisper. "He loved-He loved you so much, don't doubt that."

"Are you sure?" You hated how small you sounded, you hated how weak you felt. But, as much as you wanted to, you couldn't just leave. You needed to know. You needed to be sure.

"Of course I'm sure," said Evan. "He loved you more than anything-anything in this world." He let out a quiet chuckle. "You don't know how many times he told me that."

The corners of your lips slowly twisted upwards, until the tiniest of smiles was plastered on your face. "Thank you."

"(Y/N)!"

You turned away from your locker just in time to see Evan running towards you, weaving his way through the crowds of students as he did so.

"Hey," you smiled. "You alright? You look nervous."

"I'm-I'm always nervous," Evan choked out.

"Can't argue with that," you shrugged. "What's up?"

"I-I-Um-I needed to-I need to-Um-I need to tell you something," stuttered Evan, looking absolutely petrified. "It's just that-Well you see-For the longest time..." He took a deep breath. "Well-Well-Uh-I hope you don't find this disrespectful. I-If you do I'll back-back off! I know you miss Connor-I do too! W-We all do. He was a really gr-great guy. You were-You were so lucky. I-Um-"

"Evan?"

"Just...hang on."

Evan swung his backpack around to his front, reaching in to grab a neatly folded piece of paper. He held it tightly between his fingers, and for a half second you couldn't help but worry it might rip.

"What's wrong?" you frowned.

"I-Um-" Evan glanced down at the paper before shoving it forcefully towards you. "Uh-S-Sorry. I just-Um." He hesitated, staring intently at the paper as if it could help him. "Read this!"

And before you could blink, he was gone, leaving you with nothing but a piece of paper. Hesitantly you unfolded it, letting your eyes dart over the words. Your stomach dropped as you read them, each letter making a new knot of anxiety form in your stomach.

You grabbed your cell phone out of your pocket the moment you finished reading the letter. You scrambled to call Zoe, your fingers fumbling over the buttons as you did so.

"Hello?"

"Evan likes me," you blurted.

There was a short pause, of which you assumed was Zoe trying to gather the information you had just hurtled at you.

"But he was Connor's best friend," she muttered. "Do guys do that? Where they like each other's partners?"

"I don't know!" you hissed. "I just need advice! You're good at that, right?"

"Well do you like Evan?"

"As a friend!"

"Then don't date him," shrugged Zoe. "You know Evan, he won't get upset with you."

"But...But what if I do like him?" you continued. "What if I just don't know it‽"

"(Y/N)...Explain..."

"I don't know!" you cried. "Emotions suck! Just tell me what to do!"

"I can't," Zoe said with a quiet chuckle. "You gotta make your own decisions, (Y/N)."

"But that's scary," you whined.

"I know," sighed Zoe. "How about this, you try going on one date with Evan. Just one! That's doesn't necessarily mean you need to commit right now. Just go on one date and see how you like it."

"You don't have to do this," Evan insisted for the millionth time. "If you feel like it's too soon or something-"

"Evan, it's fine," you reassured him. "I want to be here."

"But you would tell me if you wanted to leave, r-right?"

"Of course."

Evan shot you a smile, finally seeming to feel comfortable.

"I thought we could make-Uh-brownies," he suggested. "I got all the stuff!"

"You went shopping? All by yourself?" you shot him a smile, feeling oddly impressed.

"I mean, I made Jared go-go with me," he admitted. "I don't think he was very-very happy about that. But it was worth it!"

"Well I'm still proud of you," you smirked.

"Thanks, mom," he joked, rolling his eyes a little.

Little butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the layer of sarcasm in Evan's voice. It was a nice change from his usual stuttering self.

"Ooh! You got chocolate chips!" you squealed.

"They're for the brownies!...Or I guess you could eat them, that-that works too."

You laughed through a mouthful of chocolate. "I hope you bought another bag, Hansen. These all belong to me."

"Unfortunately, I didn't think of that," Evan admitted, a light shade of pink covering his cheeks.

"What‽ What were you planning on doing when I ate all the chocolate chips‽" you exclaimed as you popped a few more chocolate pieces into your mouth.

"Well I wasn't-I wasn't planning on you eating them all," Evan teased.

"But I did eat them all," you smirked.

"They're not-They're not /all/ gone!" insisted Evan.

"But they will be."

"You didn't even share them," pouted Evan, letting out a quiet chuckle to let you know he was joking.

You bit your lip to hold back your smirk.

"You want some?"

Evan nodded. He leaned forwards, reaching for the bag in your hand, but you made your move before he could even brush his fingertips across the top of the bag. You grabbed the front of his sweatshirt with your free hand and pulled him forwards, smushing your lips together.

You weren't sure what caused you to do it. Maybe it was the way Evan's smile made your heart melt. Or maybe it was the fact that Connor's absence still left an aching hole in your heart. A hole so large you were willing to throw all caution to the wind. A hole so large you were willing to do anything to finish it, even if there was a possibility of someone getting hurt in the process.

But whatever the reason, you didn't pull away.

You let the bag of chocolate chips drop onto the counter as you stepped closer to Evan, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. Evan hesitantly placed his hands on your hips, his fingers dancing nervously over the fabric of your jeans.

His lips fumbled awkwardly against yours. He was inexperienced and nervous, but his lips were soft and his arms were comforting around you. It felt like you had gotten a piece of you back...Or maybe that was just the feeling of finally being able to be intimate with someone again.

Evan squeezed your hips lightly, though you couldn't be sure whether it was due to nervousness or a spur of the moment.

"Sorry," he muttered, his lips bumping against yours as he spoke.

"You don't need to apologize all the time," you chuckled quietly.

"Sorry."

"Evan!"

Evan ducked his head, burying it in your shoulder.

"It's alright, it's alright," you laughed. "Ohmygod, you're adorable."

"Thank you," Evan mumbled, lifting his head just enough that you could see the red on his cheeks.

You reached up to peck his lips quickly.

"This is better than-better than brownies," whispered Evan.

"I know how to make it even better," you smirked, sliding your hand under his shirt.

He wasn't Connor, but he would do.

"You really like him?"

"I think so," you said. "I mean, he's sweet. And our date was nice. He let me spend the night, ya know."

"Ew! Change the topic," gagged Alana.

"I can hear the disgust in your voice," you laughed, moving to hold the cell phone between your ear and shoulder as you searched through the fridge.

"I didn't want to hear about the details," huffed Alana. "I was just checking in to make sure you weren't using him."

"What?" you frowned, freezing.

"Look, I know you're still mourning over Connor, but that doesn't excuse you using Evan as your rebound!"

"That's not what I'm doing!" you cried.

"(Y/N), you and Connor had been dated for two years," Alana argued. "It's only been a couple months since-"

"Connor would want me to be happy," you blurted. You paused, searching desperately for the right words. "I like Evan."

There was more you wanted to say, there was more you were feeling, but you didn't know /what/ it was. Or maybe you just didn't want to admit what it was.

"If you say so," sighed Alana.

"I do say so!" you insisted. "Thank you for your help, but I need to go."

You barely gave her time to say goodbye before you hung up the phone. You let your phone slip out of your hand, dropping it with a light thump on the kitchen counter.

Standing alone now, with nothing but your thoughts, you were suddenly a lot less sure of yourself. You were so sure you felt something for Evan-in fact, you knew you did. But you also knew that you saw Connor every where you went. You saw him in Zoe's smile; you saw him in Evan's eyes; hell, you saw him in your own face when you looked in the mirror.

Guilt pooled in your stomach, almost overwhelmingly so.

You wished things could be as clear as they were before. Everything made sense when you met Connor. You knew you liked him, you knew he made you happy. That was all that mattered. But as time went on, things only got more and more confusing. By now, all your thoughts and emotions were so scrambled you could barely register what you were feeling.

/Knock, knock, knock/.

You glanced out the window, relief filling you as you spotted Evan fidgeting outside your front door.

You threw open the front door at the speed of light, hurtling yourself at the boy. You buried your head in his chest as you let him wrap his arms around you. Unfortunately his presence didn't reassure you like you had hoped it would. In fact, it almost made you feel worse. But maybe that was just because you had just now realized he was sobbing.

"Ev?" you frowned, pulling away from the hug so you could study his face carefully. "What's wrong?"

"I-I-It's just-Well-"

"Come inside," you insisted, your voice quiet.

You clasped his hand tightly as you pulled him inside. He allowed you to drag him through the house, eventually finding himself being pushed backwards onto the couch.

"Can I get you anything?" you asked worriedly.

Evan shook his head. "Just-Just-" He gestured wildly to the seat next to him. You plopped yourself down, reaching once again for his hand. You grasped his hand tightly between your own, trying desperately to steady it. He was shaking violently and each time he tried to speak it only got worse.

"You can tell me later," you said, attempting a smile that appeared more like a grimace.

Evan nodded thankfully.

You didn't move to comfort him any more than you had, and he didn't ask you to. Maybe a part of that was due to the guilt that bloomed in your stomach whenever you thought about doing anything more.

As you watched tears fall from Evan's eyes, all you could think about were the sleepless nights when you had sat awake with Connor, waiting for hours until his eyes would dry. All the late night phone calls and panicked texts in the middle of the day. All the classes you had skipped to calm him down.

The way Evan fiddled with the end of his shirt matched the way Connor would tug on the end of his sleeves. The way Evan sniffled mixed with the way Connor would do anything to stop himself from sobbing. The way Evan was squeezing your hands fit perfectly with the way Connor would clench his hands tight enough to draw blood.

They were melding together.

And through your hazy thoughts, you couldn't tell who was in front of you. Evan's tearful face mixed with Connor's angry one. The two faces blurred into one, your imagination running wild.

They were both here.

They both needed your help.

But you couldn't help them both.

You need to pick one.

But how could you pick one when you loved them both?

But you could only pick one. You needed to pick one. You needed to pick one. You needed to pick one. You needed to pick one-

In a fit of passion, you threw yourself forwards, pressing your lips against the boy's lips. But your lips had barely touched before he was pulling away, his face full of panic.

"Connor!" you shrieked, reaching out desperately for him. "Come back!"

"I-I-I'm not-not Connor-or!"

"Come back!"

"I-I'm not-"

"Connor!"

"I'm not Con-Co-"

"Please!"

"I'm not Connor! I don't know anything about Connor!"

The words came out in a blurted rush, panicked and desperate to get them out. And then all the shouting stopped, replaced by a deafening silence. The silence seemed to last for hours, feeling as if it would be centuries before it ended. But in reality it was only a few seconds before the silence was broken by the sound of a quiet sob. It took you a moment to realize you were the one the sob had come from.

"You-You-"

Evan sniffled from where he was now standing next to the couch, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

"You s-said you were-You said you were Connor's best friend," you whispered, fighting to keep your voice from cracking.

"I'm sorry," Evan choked out, a new wave of tears flooding his eyes.

Normally you would scream at him. Shout accusations about how he lied to you, about how he was a terrible person, about how he had tricked you into loving him. Normally you would be able to register your heart shattering.

But all you felt was numb.

You could feel your heart breaking, but it felt more like background noise.

You knew you were angry, but you weren't quite sure why yet. You knew he hadn't meant to trick you, you knew this wasn't some scheme to replace Connor. No matter how much it made sense in your head, you couldn't believe that while staring into his eyes.

He looked so frightened, waiting for you to say something. Waiting for you to scream. Waiting for you shout profanities.

But you couldn't.

You could barely feel anything, much less find enough motivation to yell.

All you could say-your voice still broken and quiet-was, "Get out."


	3. Christine C X Reader (BMC)

Summary: Christine helps [reader] with their writer's block.

TW: None

* * *

The blank piece of paper stared back at you, the wordless sheet seeming to taunt you. Your pencil was poised above the paper, ready to write. Except you had nothing to write. Absolutely nothing. You tightened your grip around the pencil, wracking your brain for something, anything to write about.

Nothing.

You groaned in frustration as you slammed your pencil onto your desk. You glared at the blank page, as if this writers block was its fault. In reality you knew your dry streak had nothing to do with this particular page, but it was nice to have something to blame.

You were torn from your frustrated thoughts by a loud buzzing. You reached over to pick up the vibrating phone, the sound lessening once it was off the desk. You glanced at the ID, unsure if you really wanted to hold a conversation. But your anxiety washed away when you spotted the name at the top of the screen. Butterflies fluttered about your stomach, making the tiniest smile pull at your lips.

"Hey, Christine," you said, placing the call on speaker as you placed the phone back on the desk.

"Hi (Y/N)!" Christine chirped happily, the excited bounce in her voice making your smile widen. "Watchu up to?"

"Writing," you said. "Well, I'm trying to. I'm kind of out of ideas."

"I can help!" You could almost see Christine's eyes lighting up.

"Well I dunno-"

"I heard that you just need a change of scenery!"

"No, I just need to actually use my brain."

Christine scoffed. "You can't force imagination. Let's go out! It'll help!"

"I'm in pajamas," you mumbled.

"Get dressed!" Christine was practically buzzing with excitement.

You sighed, defeated. "Fine, fine."

An hour later and you were being dragged through the streets by Christine. A giddy grin was spread over her face, the twist of her lips looking as bright as the sun itself. Though you were more focused on the way her fingers slotted between yours, making little sparks fly up your arm.

"Where-Where are we going?" you asked, tearing your eyes away from your connected hands.

"To the park," smiled Christine. "Whenever I need some peace and quiet, I go to the park. There's this bench by the lake that I always sit on when I need to run lines. Well, not always, but whenever I'm running them at the park, I sit on that bench!" A faint pink peppered her cheeks. "I figured it might help you."

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you stared at her, amazement clear in your eyes.

"Sorry," mumbled Christine, her cheeks slowly darkening. "Is this weird? We can go do something else if you like-"

"No!" you exclaimed, your eyes widening the slightest bit. "No. It's perfect. Thank you."

Christine's grin reappeared, somehow even wider than before, and she squeezed your hand as she continued to drag you down the path.

"C'mon!" she beamed. "We're almost there!"

True to her word, it was only a few more minutes before you were walking through the park. The world around you was steadily growing darker as the sun lowered in the sky, making a pool of anxiety form in your stomach.

"Are you sure it's okay to be out here so late?" you frowned. "What if some creepy guy comes after us."

"It's not that late," insisted Christine. "Besides, the bench is pretty well hidden. I doubt anyone will even see us."

She had barely finished speaking before she was pushing back a low tree branch, revealing an old bench. It was covered in leaves and the paint was chipped, but it still brought a smile to your face.

The bench was surrounded by large bushes as well as an enormous willow tree in the back, all of which hid the bench from view entirely. The only way you would be able to see the bench was from across the lake, and even then it would be too far away to make out any faces. The lake wasn't anything spectacular. It was tinted a little green, bits of grass peaking out through the water, but the setting sun hit it in such an angle that water almost looked like it was sparkling.

"I can see why you like this place," you murmured, feeling breathless.

"It's pretty, right?" smiled Christine. She sat carefully on the bench, patting the space next to her. "Sometimes I just like to come here and think. It's calming."

You sat next to her, a fond smile playing on your lips. your eyes didn't leave her face as you muttered, "Yeah, it's beautiful."

"Sometimes, in the Spring, there'll be little flowers here," smiled Christine, kicking her foot across the dirt. "Oh! And sometimes there are ducks on the lake! One time, one came right up to me! Well, not right up to me. It was just standing on the edge of the land, but it was pretty close!"

You chuckled. "That sounds awesome."

Christine turned to smile at you, her soft lips perked up only the littlest bit as her eyes sparkled almost shyly. "Is it helping?"

"What?"

"With your writer's block?" Christine questioned. "Are you getting any ideas?"

You took your time before answering. You stared over the lake, watching as it rippled. You watched the grass waver in the wind, inspected the leaves of the willow tree wave lazily back and fourth. You took in the area around you, feeling calmer than you had all week.

"Yeah," you eventually murmured. "It's helping a lot."

"Really‽" grinned Christine, perking up at the words. "What ideas do you have?"

You smiled cheekily. "You'll have to wait and see."

A few days later the two of you were sitting on the same bench, Christine's eyes staring at the pile of papers in your hands as you held them tightly on your lap.

"It's only a rough draft," you said, your heart stuttering nervously in your chest. "It's not perfect. So, just, be patient...especially with spelling errors and such, there will probably be a lot of those-"

"(Y/N)," Christine said, an encouraging laugh rippling past her lips. "I'm sure it'll be great."

She reached out for the papers, a small smile on her lips. For a moment you hesitated. You were no stranger to sharing your work with Christine, she read nearly all of your writing, but this one...this one was different.

With a deep breath, you handed the papers to Christine.

"You're a big inspiration for this," you blurted. At seeing her raised eyebrows, looking almost surprised, you added, "Honestly! You taking me here really helped. It gave me-" You swallowed thickly. "It gave me the perfect idea."

Christine shot you one last smile before turning her eyes to the papers on her lap.

As the minutes dragged on, you were starting to get more and more nervous. You fiddled your fingers nervously and your eyes darted around the small area, searching for something to distract yourself. But there was nothing. Nothing that could take your mind off the words Christine was reading.

"(Y/N)...This is beautiful," whispered Christine. "The description is amazing. Is this about the bench‽"

You nodded, taking your lower lip between your teeth. "Mostly."

Christine sent you a quizzical look. "Mostly?"

"Keep reading," you whispered, keeping your eyes trained on the group.

Christine did as instructed, curiosity shining in her eyes.

"You should write a play," Christine blabbered mindlessly as she read. "Then I could be in it and we could use this background wouldn't that be fun‽ Think about it! It would be such a pretty background and I'm sure the crew would love making it-" She stopped suddenly, the words catching in her throat. Silence settled over the two of you as she stared at the paper, her lips forming a perfect 'O'. "Is...Is this about me?"

You nodded slowly.

"Wow."

"I'm sorry," you rambled. "It's just that you looked so pretty and you seemed to excited and happy and I wanted to capture that. And you probably think I'm super weird now or something because people don't call their friends 'the sun's light' or describe their smile as 'a ray of sunshine' or talk about their friends as if they're the sun like every other paragraph-"

And then Christine laughed. Actually laughed. And as much as the sound filled your stomach with butterflies, it also somehow caused dread to seep through your veins.

"It's okay," smiled Christine. "It's sweet."

Relief washed over you as you felt a smile tug at your lips. "Really‽"

"Yeah," murmured Christine. "No one's ever compared me to the sun so many times before."

You chuckled quietly, feeling your cheeks grow hot.

"It's flattering," smiled Christine. "Thank you."

She leaned over, pecking your cheek gently. You reached up to touch the tingling spot that her lips had touched, feeling your cheeks somehow get darker.

"Th-Thank you," you mumbled. "I'm glad you liked the...the thing." You gestured awkwardly to the papers in her hands.

Christine laughed. "I love it."

"So," you murmured, glancing shyly up at the other girl. "Can I kiss you?"

Christine's head whipped around to face you, a broad grin playing on her lips. "Take me on a date first."


End file.
